and do I lead you by the hand
by liesmyth
Summary: "I'm going to need you to stay close to me." / Deleted scene: Shallan and Kaladin come out of the chasms. [COMPLETE]


The storm had been over for almost an hour before Kaladin could bring himself to climb down to the bottom of the chasm. His leg hurt, and would hurt more once he put weight on it, the rocks were damp and slippery, and the chasmfiend looked every bit as ugly now that it was dead than it had alive.

Shallan, on the other hand, was back to her insufferably chipper self.

"Such a _shame_ we had to chop it open," she was saying, staring adoringly at the carcass the way Kaladin would've expected a lighteyed girl to look at… whatever it was that lighteyed women liked to moon at. Pretty dresses. Books. Shirtless Shardbearers.

Kaladin would be the first to admit he did not know much about women, especially brightladies, but someone like Shallan couldn't be _normal_. Surely she must be considered odd even by lighteyed standards, with the way she kept pacing all around the dead beast to make sure to get all the angles right.

That was what she seemed to be saying, anyway. Kaladin hadn't really understood much of Shallan's babblings past the point when the girl had realized that the satchel with her drawings had indeed survived the highstorm.

The ensuing scream of joy had been loud enough to make him extremely thankful for the newfound lack of murderous beasts in the nearby chasms.

Not that Shallan seemed to appreciate that.

"It was of course very brave, what you did," she was saying now. "But honestly, bridgeboy, did you really have to get _swallowed_ to do it? Think of all the lost opportunities for scholarship…"

It was good-natured, though, and Kaladin found himself almost smiling at the scene. Shallan's enthusiasm was contagious.

"Are you ever going to climb down?" she asked, frowning all of a sudden. " _Can_ you even climb down with that leg?"

"It's fine if you can't," Shallan said. "I could go on my own, send you back a chull sled or… something."

Truth be told, Kaladin knew that was the smartest solution. He knew all too well the consequence of overexerting a wounded limb – but then again, everyone in his place would've had to do the same. He had grown too used to Stormlight, too spoiled, and now that… things were different, there was nothing he could do about it.

He shook his head, trying not to think about Syl.

"Yes, I'm coming down."

Besides. A sled. Adolin would _never_ let him hear the end of it.

It took Kaladin almost five whole minutes to climb down a few feet, enough time for Shallah to put all of her drawings back in her satchel, and then some. She rushed to help him once he'd touched the ground – surprisingly thoughtful of her – staring up at him with clear blue eyes. She had freckles on her nose, and Kaladin wondered how he'd never noticed before.

"I guess we should go," she said then, throwing one last regretful look over her shoulder.

Kaladin followed her gaze to the chasmfiend's corpse. _Honestly_ , he thought. The storming thing had tried to _eat_ him.

Then he remembered. "Shallan," he asked. "What about the gemheart? We should cut it out."

"I hadn't even thought about that." She frowned. "I'd make the worst accountant, wouldn't I? Way too much curiosity and too little practicality…"

Shallan ended up having to do the work herself, of course. She summoned her Shardblade again, still glowing as it had the night before, though Kaladin couldn't help but notice how more manageable the Blade now looked compared to when he'd been the one holding it. The weapon he'd killed the chasmfiend with had been massive; this one was slender and smaller, almost like a hunting knife.

 _She can't have_ two _Blades, can't she?_

But no; it must be a Radiant thing. He wished Syl was still there so he could ask her.

The gemheart was green and glowing, bigger than any Kaladin had ever seen. He narrowed his eyes at it, remembering the sweat and the blood of the desperate bridge runs. _Is this what so many men died for?_ The gemheart was beautiful, of course, but it seemed hardly worth so many lives.

"You're getting moody again."

Kaladin's eyes snapped up. It felt familiar, a woman's voice bossing him around, but it wasn't really… it wasn't _right_ –

"Stop thinking whatever is that you're thinking," Shallan added. She was smiling, the crazy woman, with an inquisitive look in her eyes that let Kaladin know how much she truly understood.

 _Right._

He took a few experimental steps, trying to ignore the piercing pain shooting through his leg. Adolin or not, the sled was starting to sound better by the second.

"Storms." It was Shallan's voice. When had she gotten so close? She put his arm around her shoulders, steadying him. "Are you going to be able to walk the whole way?"

Kaladin glanced at the enormous gemheart in Shallan's other hand, shining steady. It was _right there_ , a massive wealth of Stormlight that could…

He breathed in, willing his body to heal.

Nothing happened.

His leg hurt, but it was what he deserved, wasn't it? For what he'd done to Syl.

"I have to," he said.

"That doesn't sound very encouraging." Shallan started walking; he followed her, so agonizingly slow. Hobbling, where once he'd flied. "You're not going to drop halfway through, aren't you?"

"I'm not," Kaladin told her. "But I'm going to need you to stay close to me."

"Great," the girl quipped. "I'll end up stinking even more, then."

He shot her an indignant glare. "You're covered in blood, Shallan," he pointed out. "You really shouldn't be the one complaining, here."

Granted, he was covered in blood as well. Though his turn had been a while ago, with a Highstorm in the middle. The water had cleaned him up.

Mostly.

Shallan gave an elaborate sigh. "You really are hopeless," she said. "You're never supposed to tell a lady when she could use a bath. That's just not proper – you should compare her eyes to the midday sky, or tell her how beautiful her smile is, and be sure to keep away from any stench-related observations."

Strictly speaking, Kaladin suspected a lady owning a Shardblade might be just as improper, but he didn't tell her that. Shallan's eyes _were_ the color of the midday sky, and her smile a striking thing of hope, but it wouldn't do him much good to notice that now.

Still. It felt nice to acknowledge, even to himself, that there were some good things left in the world – even when one of said things turned up to be a lighteyed girl who talked too much, and somehow always knew the right thing to say.

He took another step, and then one more. The sun climbed up in the sky and the pain didn't go away – not that Kaladin had expected it would – but it grew a little better. A bit easier.

With time, perhaps, it would heal.

* * *

 **hi guys! in case you enjoyed this - or didn't, but would like to read more stormlight/cosmere fic anyway - there's a bigger community over at AO3 archiveofourownDOTorg. check it out if you'd like!**


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